Among the most resolute and ardent of the votaries of chance, may be
numbered the mortals whose hope is to raise themselves by a wealthy
match; who lay out all their industry on the assiduities of courtship,
and sleep and wake with no other ideas than of treats, compliments,
guardians and rivals.
One of the most indefatigable of this class, is my old friend Leviculus,
whom I have never known for thirty years without some matrimonial
project of advantage. Leviculus was bred under a merchant, and by the
graces of his person, the sprightliness of his prattle, and the neatness
of his dress, so much enamoured his master's second daughter, a girl of
sixteen, that she declared her resolution to have no other husband. Her
father, after having chidden her for undutifulness, consented to the
match, not much to the satisfaction of Leviculus, who was sufficiently
elated with his conquest to think himself entitled to a larger fortune.
He was, however, soon rid of his perplexity, for his mistress died
before their marriage.
He was now so well satisfied with his own accomplishments, that he
determined to commence fortune-hunter; and when his apprenticeship
expired, instead of beginning, as was expected, to walk the Exchange
with a face of importance, or associating himself with those who were
most eminent for their knowledge of the stocks, he at once threw off the
solemnity of the counting-house, equipped himself with a modish wig,
listened to wits in coffee-houses, passed his evenings behind the scenes
in the theatres, learned the names of beauties of quality, hummed the
last stanzas of fashionable songs, talked with familiarity of high play,
boasted of his achievements upon drawers and coachmen, was often brought
to his lodgings at midnight in a chair, told with negligence and
jocularity of bilking a tailor, and now and then let fly a shrewd jest
at a sober citizen.
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